Several years ago two contrary events occurred in my life within a few years of each other, asthma and a love for running. Neither of these is particularly suited for the Deep South and they certainly don't work well together. One of the first things I learned about running is that I am a cold weather/low humidity runner. Every year when I flip the calendar over to April I begin to dread the ever climbing thermometer and by May my hobby dwindles to an occasional run until the thermometer and humidity levels drop back to a tolerable level. By mid May summer arrives, wrapping its oppressive heat and humidity around the south like a heavy wet blanket. Even those who donít suffer from asthma can feel the heaviness in their chest when they walk outside and are assaulted by the smothering swelter.

My constant companion on any run, whether cold or hot weather, is my rescue inhaler. For the first few years after my asthma diagnosis, before I started running, I never needed the inhaler and I loathed the bright yellow and orange contraption. I often forgot where I left it and several cartridges expired before they were used once. When I first began running it was in early winter and I didnít think I needed the inhaler so I left it behind. Because I was an inexperienced runner I had no idea what was to come in a few short months when the weather would turn hot and humid.

I can still remember the late spring day I walked home, unable to finish a run, gasping for breath like a fish in a dry bucket, scared I might die of an asthma attack before I made it back. It was the first time I had used the inhaler and my hands were shaking as I read the instructions that came with it. I put the inhaler to my mouth, pressed down on the cartridge, sucked in the aerosol and held my breath. I didnít know how long I was supposed to hold my breath, but I didnít want to exhale. I know it was just my imagination, but in that instant I could feel the medicine clearing my lungs. There was a sense of peace that in a few seconds the heavy weight in my chest would be lifted and I could breathe deeply, free from the fear that had consumed me just a few minutes earlier.

I wonder if thatís how it was the day Jesus breathed the Holy Spirit into the disciples (John 20:22). Just imagine having the Holy Spirit breathed into your lungs and feeling Him take over your body and changing it forever. Of course the disciples couldnít hold their breath forever; no matter how much they wanted those precious seconds to last. They were specially chosen to breathe in the Holy Spirit and then exhale it out to everyone they came in contact with, spreading the Word of God.

All of us are commissioned to do the same. Although we donít physically feel the breath of the Holy Spirit blow into our lungs, we do feel His presence. It is our purpose to share the Word of God with others just as it was the disciplesí purpose. God has given each of us different talents and different experiences in life that He expects us to use toward that end. When we use those talents and experiences for His glory we exhale the breath of the Holy Spirit and send it on for another to breathe in.

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE

JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.